


cliche

by thir13enth



Series: jerza love fest 2016 [3]
Category: Fairy Tail
Genre: F/M, and metaphors are extended the shit out of them, in which sex is more aethetically pleasing than in real life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-30
Updated: 2016-10-30
Packaged: 2018-08-27 23:37:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8422087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thir13enth/pseuds/thir13enth
Summary: So be it, if he fell into the same predictable pattern as every other fairytale, but if there was one thing he knew, it was that she was nowhere near ordinary.





	

**Author's Note:**

> **prompt:** butterflies (from [Jerza Love Fest 2016](jerza-lovefest.tumblr.com))  
>  **notes:** in which i make sex more aesthetically pleasing than it actually is

What’s more cliche than saying that when he saw her, he felt butterflies in his stomach?

Love at first sight, perhaps?

So be it, if he fell into the same predictable pattern as every other fairytale, but if there was one thing he knew, it was that she was nowhere near ordinary.

She had him at the moment she reached behind her to tie her long thick hair into a ponytail so that she could properly eat the pasta they ordered for dinner. She laughed then, when she noticed that he was staring, and mumbled something about her hair being annoying and something about not wanting to get sauce all over it.

To be honest, he doesn’t remember much about that moment, except that he blurted she was beautiful.

He never realized that he had a thing for hair until he met her, but granted he never saw such a brilliant color of scarlet.

In fact, that night, he realized a lot of things he never realized. The fact that even after a rough break-up with Ultear, that even after a number of inconsistent flings with Sorano, he could still actually fall in love.

So what’s more cliche than saying that when he saw her, he felt butterflies in his stomach?

That even now — after months of dating her, after years of being with her, after a promise of an eternity in marrying her, he _still_ feels them.

There’s not really a magic to it. She simply kisses him with an open mouth, tugging his bottom lip with her teeth, before she falls down to her knees, all the meanwhile running her lips down his skin. Her mouth follows the hard creases of his tensing muscles, then the line of thickening hair beyond his waist straight to his cock. She takes the tip slowly into her mouth, sucking it graciously like she’s savoring the salt of his pre-cum.

She takes her time. At this point, she knows precisely what he likes, and she doesn’t need to waste energy on exploring other spots along his length, or testing just how deep and for how long she can hold him, or experimenting another rhythm of ups, downs, and arounds.

It’s nothing more than the science of arousal, but he knows there has to be _something_ beyond what logic can explain that she does that makes him feel so damn _good_.

When she wraps her tongue around his erection, he feels butterflies all the way up in his stomach. He feels their fluttering wings surface to the top of his skin, brimming at the edge of his heart, burning at the base of his groin. He feels them — gentle, tickling, and soothing, yet taut, strained, and impatient — from his inner thighs to his quickening breath to the teasing sensations at the back of his head. Every time she comes down, every time she sucks harder, every time she moans, the vibrations push him close and closer to the edge, close and closer to the tipping point, close and closer to the brink of his consciousness — until he finally releases.

It’s intense, it’s overpowering, it’s mind shattering.

It’s like falling in love with her all over again — cliche as it might seem.

**Author's Note:**

> tfw metaphors are extended a little too far


End file.
